They were small and dark, reeking of Lucky Strikes and spilt beer. Often the liquor was watered and the prices no bargain. Every time the front door creaked open, heads would swivel toward it with a mix of hope and fear to see who was entering…a known friend, someone who might reveal their secret, toughs looking for a fight, or the cops to harass or shake them down.
Yet despite these faults, a gay bar, then as now, was the center of the community. Often it was the only place that gay men and women could go to socialize with one another and let their guard down, if only slightly, in a hostile world. And even that space was generally shared; straight by day, tolerating gays only after their other customers had gone home. It might have been owned by the mob, or paid tribute to them or to the cops, or to both.